


Where The Winds Don't Blow

by OfTeaAndJumpers



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Eating, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:35:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9491174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfTeaAndJumpers/pseuds/OfTeaAndJumpers
Summary: This litte story takes place in Ithilien after the fall of the Dark Lord. While celebrating their reunion, the Hobbits discover that their friendship might be bordering on something deeper. Epilogue takes place after Frodo has left for the Grey Havens.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, after having read the Lord of the Rings for the umpteenth time, I was so moved by the strong friendhip between the four hobbits that I HAD to write this little piece. It's basically fluff, with a hint of melancholy in the mix. 
> 
> I borrowed the title "Where the winds don't blow" from a song by the German elecronic/dark wave project Deine Lakaien. I listened to the song while writing this story - it's a perfect match for the sweetness of summer and the melancholy of winter in this story. 
> 
> If you like the story, dear Reader, please leave a comment, it is much appreciated! Also please point out any language mistakes as I am no native speaker :)

**Where The Winds Don't Blow**

 

Night fell in Ithilien, cloudless and clear. The sky was a magic carpet woven with stars and a bright full moon. The promise of summer hung heavy in the air, in the scent of blossoming flowers and fragrant pine needles, the sleepy chirp of hidden birds and the soft rippling of a nearby creek.

 

The four hobbits had enjoyed a rich meal in the best company imaginable. Nearly all their companions were gathered together to celebrate the victory over Sauron. Many tales were shared between those who had been separated for so long, each story forming a small but important part of the grand story of how the Dark Lord was overthrown.

 

At last, when most of the tales were told and nearly all the food was gone, Aragorn had said “It is time to rest, my dear hobbits. Tomorrow we will continue our journey to Gondor, and you all need a good long sleep. I have set up a tent for the four of you alone. I hope you find it to your liking. Good night!” With these words, he rose and showed them the tent which was erected between two large beeches.

 

Merry was the first to open the tarpaulin and marvel at the inside of the tent. “Look,” he cried, “one big bed for the four of us! Splendid! I don't know when I have last slept in a real bed.”

 

“I wouldn't call this a 'real' bed, but we could do worse, I suppose.” Pippin, not yet tired, hopped on the bed-like heap of mattresses, blankets and cushions that formed as cosy a sleeping place as they could wish for.

 

“Do come in! Be my guests.” He made a grand gesture which did not quite match his boyish smile, and the others laughed and joined him. Sam of course settled in next to Frodo. Merry laid flat on his back, and Pippin, still restless, moved beside him, now bouncing on the spring mattresses, now lying on his stomach and grinning up to Merry. It was the first time since they returned from their battle fields that they felt so much at ease, and that they could fully appreciate that they were still alive and had each other.

 

Frodo had not been too keen on conversation during dinner, and so Sam had to do most of the talking concerning their long and perilous journey into the heart of Mordor. Frodo merely interrupted Sam's tale when it came to the brave role his friend had played on several occasions but was too modest to emphasise or even mention. When Sam ended his story, Frodo had simply added “I could not have achieved my task without him.” Everyone fell silent at that last remark, and looked up to Sam, who was blushing furiously at so much undivided attention.

 

“Who would have thought” - Pippin was the only one in the makeshift bed who was still talking, when the others would happily have succumbed to sleep – “that Samwise Gamgee here, Master Frodo's gardener, would play the most important role of all of us!”

 

“Hush!” said Sam uneasily. “You certainly played your own important parts, and will be gaining much renown in the Shire for it. And Master Frodo, he had the most difficult task, what with being the Ring bearer and all!” He looked down on his master and best friend, now nearly asleep, with an unusually tender expression.

 

“Let's end this discussion, shall we? Each of us has helped to make Middle Earth a better place in their own way.” Merry said with an air of finality, throwing Pippin a look that clearly meant, _Shut your big Took mouth and go to sleep, Pip._

 

Pippin smiled apologetically at him. He had grown a lot since they set out from the Shire, thought Merry. Not only in size and because of the Ents' draught. Merry saw in his friend's handsome features an air of melancholy that he had not possessed before. Pippin could be as foolish and playful as ever – and easily deceive anyone who didn't know him better– but now and then a mood came over him that he could not hide behind his easy smiles and quips. Pippin had seen too much in these past months to remain unaffected. Sometimes he seemed torn between his former carefree self and someone who had to carry the weight of having seen too much evil. Merry loved him all the more for it, especially since he himself had certainly changed as well.

 

In some ways, though, Pippin hadn't changed at all. He still wanted the last word.

 

“Who's in for a bit of cuddling?” he announced with a bright expression.

 

Merry shot him an exasperated, albeit amused glance.

 

“In case you didn't notice, our dear cousin is asleep. It would be highly unfair to treat him to your cuddling without his consent.”

 

Turning his gaze to Frodo, he changed his expression.

 

“It seems someone has already started the cuddling.” he added under his breath.

 

Pippin turned around and was met with a sight he had not expected. Frodo was fast asleep. His dark long lashes stood out in stark contrast to his delicate milky-white skin. His face radiated a peacefulness Merry hadn't seen there since they were reunited. He looked young and innocent and no one would have guessed he had had to carry such a terrible burden.

 

But what really caught Merry and Pippin's attention was the fact that Sam had bridged the small distance between himself and Frodo, and thrown an arm around his friend. He had closed his eyes but apparently was not asleep. Merry noticed that he was taking deliberately slow and cautious breaths to inhale the scent of Frodo's hair. Frodo seemingly relaxed under Sam's light touch. There was such an intimate bond between them that Merry was almost ashamed to witness it.

 

Pippin obviously thought the same. For once he held back an insinuating remark. Merry could not see his face, as Pip's back was to him, but he swore it bore the same wondrous expression he felt must have been on his own face.

 

Sam opened his eyes, caught sight of Merry and Pippin staring, and for a second he looked embarrassed. Clearly he thought there would be much teasing for his obvious display of affection.

 

But Pippin surprised Merry once again.

 

“Hold him while you can”, he whispered to an astonished Sam. “He looks so otherworldly that only your love for him keeps him here.”

 

Merry could only swallow. He had underestimated the young Took. Not only had Pippin observed Frodo's occasionally absent and almost elvish air since their reunion, he chose to comment on it to Sam in the most careful way possible.

 

Sam could find no answer. His expression was a delightful mix of awkward, grateful and foolish. He closed his eyes again and rested his head on the pillow right behind his best friend.

 

Pippin did not move, or speak, for a long moment. He seemed to watch the peaceful scene before him. At last, he turned over to meet Merry's eyes.

 

“You surprise me, Peregin Took.” Merry said.

 

“Because you expect me to act like the fool of a Took that I am?” Pippin's voice was light, but underneath a sudden sadness was revealed.

 

“I did not doubt your qualities to be earnest and mature. I merely assumed you would make fun of Sam. He _is_ very affectionate, after all; one might get the wrong impression about them.”

 

“Since when do you give a Shire's dung pile about what people think?”

 

Pippin had grown louder during their short conversation. Merry, afraid to wake up the others, put his index finger on Pippin's lips for a moment, before struggling for an answer.

 

“I don't. I would fight anyone in the Shire and the whole of Middle Earth who made fun of the extraordinary relationship they share. You know that.”

 

In fact, there wouldn't be that many hobbits in the Shire who would frown upon the friendship-bordering-on-something-else of Sam and Frodo. Most of them lived after the motto _live and let live_ , while the others were folks who thought Frodo peculiar in the first place. More or less gossip was not a bother to Frodo or his friends.

 

Pippin knew all this. He also knew that Merry was the last person who would be prejudiced. They had witnessed so many unusual things on their journey through Middle Earth. A ranger who turned out to be king. An old wizard who came back from the Balrog's fire more powerful than ever. Another mighty wizard who was overthrown by ancient Ents. And last but not least a woman named Eowyn who went by the disguise of Dernhelm, the fearless Rohan rider who had borne Merry to fight along with his kinsmen. Merry loved both Eowyn – proud and sad and desperate in her unrequited love for Aragorn – and Dernhelm, the dauntless fighter who had brought down the Lord of the Nazgul and revealed his true person. How could he have prejudices against any kind of love and friendship under the sun of Middle Earth?

 

Staring into Pippin's eyes, Merry thought he began to understand. His best friend was not concerned for Frodo or Sam. Or rather, not only for them. He was concerned for himself. Why? Merry was not sure he was brave enough to face the answer. Then he scolded himself. There was no need to avoid an answer. On the contrary. What went for Sam and Frodo was also true for him and Pippin. He had known that for a long time now. If anything could have been an indication, it was the nearly unbearable pain he felt when they had been separated during their journey. It just never occurred to him to act on his feelings for Pippin. After all, what did Pippin expect him to do?

 

His best friend interrupted his musings by gently combing his fingers through Merry's curls. “Stop thinking” he whispered, then grinned, much like the old Pip. “Don't worry.” he added, though what about Merry should not worry he did not say.

 

Merry threw a glance across Pippin's shoulder and watched the peaceful sleep of their companions. Exactly, he thought. What was there to worry about?

 

He smiled at his best friend, leaned in and gave him a quick, soft kiss on his surprised lips. 

 

“I’m not worrying, Pippin. Now let's go to sleep, I'm knackered. It's been a long day.”

 

Pippin looked up at him and there it was again, the melancholy, the grown-up earnestness, but something else behind it, a sudden depth of mirth, of laughter and love, all reserved for him, Merry. They smiled at each other and went to sleep, limbs and emotions hopelessly entangled.

 

 

Epilogue - Some time after _The Grey Havens_

 

“Sam, my lad, come in!”

 

It was Pippin who opened the door of old Bilbo's former home. After Frodo had left the Shire to go over the Sea, never to return, his closest friends had learnt through Frodo's last will that Bag End was to be theirs. They settled in gladly, for it was a respectable home and they could see Sam and his family in their home down the road whenever they wished.

 

Naturally, Sam had been devastated when Frodo had left with Gandalf, Bilbo and the Elves for the Grey Havens. How could he himself be going home and be whole when his best friend went away, never to return, and took a piece of Sam with him? It had taken much of Rosie's patience – bless her! - the laughter and joy of his children and the unwavering friendship of Merry and Pippin to soothe Sam's deep grief. Still it would sometimes flare up unexpectedly, much like Frodo's old wound that had haunted him so much in his last days in the Shire. The only thing Sam's friends could do was hug him, show him the beauty of his family and the Shire and to remind him that his place was here with them.

 

Lately, Sam seemed to be more subdued than usual. Merry thought it must have to do with the fact that it was winter time. A thick layer of snow covered all living things in the Shire. The world seemed peacefully asleep, waiting for nature to recover its strength for spring to return ever more forcefully when the time came. Sam hated winter. He was a hobbit who loved all things alive, even more so when he helped them come into his world. He never failed to be proud of the small garden he made from Galadriel's seeds, and in times of grief he would take a stroll in that garden and forget his sorrows for a while. Now even Galadriel's flowers were asleep under the white and frosty blanket.

 

Pippin, ever the observant hobbit, had of course noticed Sam's depressed mood. He had consulted Merry and together they had come up with a great idea. An idea which they wanted to share with him now.

 

“Here, Sam, what do you say to an early dinner? We have prepared pumpkin pie, fresh bread and goat cheese and apple tart.” Merry led Sam to their living room.

 

Sam looked hopefully at the laden dinner table, but then straightened himself up and said “You said you had a proposal to make?” He obviously thought it would be an unpleasant affair because the way Pippin had invited him over was rather pompous and ominous. In fact, Pippin had been, and still was, a tad unsure whether Sam would even like the idea. Especially since he had Rosie and the kids to think of.

 

“Only one way to find out if he likes it.” Merry had said. “Let's ask him.”

 

So on this wintry December evening, they sat around the dinner table, helped themselves to generous helpings of pumpkin pie, and Merry laid out his plan to Sam.

 

“You must be joking” Sam said when Merry had ended.

 

“Not at all.” Merry replied calmly. He had insisted upon telling Sam himself, because Pip would turn the reasonable idea to make it appear a hasty and over-enthusiastic whim. No, the idea must come across as sound as possible, had been Merry's argument.

 

“But what about Rosie and the kids?” Sam finally managed to ask after Merry had finished.

 

“We already talked to her” Pip chimed in. “She is very much convinced that you need a change of scene.”

 

“For an entire year?” Sam was aghast.

 

“That depends on what you decide when we reach the _Prancing Pony_. You can either return to your family or you can join us for the rest of the journey.”

 

Sam put on a thoughtful face. The mere mentioning of Rohan and Gondor, of Aragorn and Arwen, Faramir, Eowyn and Eomer sparked fire in his eyes that had been dead for too long.

 

“But … why...? Surely you two could go without me?”

 

“We could”, Pippin said, a glint in his eyes. “But we saw how much you were grieving for Frodo. This brooding is not healthy, Sam. Rosie agrees with us that you need a distraction. She will be glad when you return to her in higher spirits than you are now, believe me.” He said it with such heartfelt earnestness that Merry, not for the first time, felt a rush of affection for his friend.

 

Ever since they inherited Bag End from Frodo, it was out of the question that either of them – Pippin or Merry – would marry some lass or other (not that they lacked the opportunity!) and settle down with her to start a family. No, they ignored all the gossip and sidelong-glances from more “respectable” (in Pip's words, 'narrow-minded') people and moved in together. Merry would not have it any other way. They loved each other, and the manner in which they privately expressed their feelings was none of those “respectable” people's business. In fact, it was a constant source of delight to Pippin that the very same people who regarded their relationship as “unnatural” had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that Merry and Pippin had played the major part in saving the Shire from a dark and unpleasant fate.

 

Sam contemplated Merry's idea, while slowly chewing on the last piece of apple tart.

 

“I'm coming with you.” he finally said.

 

“Splendid!” was Pippin's reply. He jumped up from his chair, made his way around the table and gave Sam a kiss full on the mouth.

 

Merry suppressed a grin at his friend's spontaneous reaction, while Sam spluttered on his apple tart.

 

“Now, if you ever think that I’ll be taking part in your shenanigans, you are sorely mistaken!” He tried his best to make an indignant face, but Merry saw that he barely suppressed an excited giggle.

“Don’t worry, we keep our 'shenanigans' to ourselves, don't we, Merry?” Pippin's mischievous smile was enough to set Merry off laughing.

 

Sam joined in, and they ended up giggling until they nearly cried. Sam looked happier than Merry had seen him in a long time, and he made a vow to himself to keep him that way on their journey.

 

He took his glass of wine, came round the table to join Pippin and Sam on the couch and raised his glass.

 

“To our journey.”

 

“To our journey.” echoed Sam.

 

“To Frodo” said Pippin, once again surprising Merry. He smiled over the rim of his glass at Merry, while slinging his free arm around Sam's shoulders.

 

In a low voice, Pippin then began to sing a song that spoke of the joys of travelling. The way he sang it, expressing merriment and melancholy in equal measure, echoed his very self so perfectly that Merry's heart seemed to burst with love for his friend.

 

When Pippin had ended, Merry raised his glass one more time.

 

“To our friendship!”

 


End file.
